


What's the Hurry?

by larkscape



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Begging, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Post-Season/Series 07, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:16:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27251815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larkscape/pseuds/larkscape
Summary: “But I like watching you like this,” Shiro says, smiling. The two fingers working over Keith's rim press gently, retreat, press again, never quite pushing inside despite the ridiculous excess of lube soaking Keith's ass and thighs. Keith kind of wants to headbutt him in the nose. “Besides,” Shiro continues more seriously, “you only got out of the hospital last night. I want to be careful.”After Keith recovers from his crash landing in Black, Shiro is a bit of a tease. Keith turns the tables.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 112





	What's the Hurry?

“Shiro.”

Another gentle nudge, barely moving. “Yeah, Keith?”

“Hurry up.”

“But I like watching you like this,” Shiro says, smiling. The two fingers working over Keith's rim press gently, retreat, press again, never quite pushing inside despite the ridiculous excess of lube soaking Keith's ass and thighs. Keith kind of wants to headbutt him in the nose. “Besides,” Shiro continues more seriously, “you only got out of the hospital last night. I want to be careful.”

His concern isn’t entirely unfounded; Keith spent far too long in that hospital bed for anyone’s comfort. Getting blown up by a mysterious mech and crash landing from outside the atmosphere down to hard-packed desert very nearly killed him. He thought it would, honestly, and that his last memories would be seeing the Atlas felled and hearing the determination and grief in the other paladins’ voices as they gave the final push to get the mech-turned-bomb out of range of Earth.

So yeah, Shiro’s reaction is understandable. He was more worried that even Keith’s own mother, who better understood the Galra healing process. Keith’s extended coma had been perfectly normal to her, but Shiro was at his bedside every day, gripping his hand and murmuring to him, begging for him to wake up soon. Keith remembers snatches of it, from those moments when he swam closer to consciousness, and it makes his chest tighten every time it comes to mind: the shake in Shiro’s voice, the squeeze of his hand, the desperate kisses he pressed to Keith’s knuckles when there was no one else in the room.

At this point, though, Shiro's worry is unnecessary; Keith was fully recovered a week ago and the doctors kept him under observation too long anyway, wanting to understand his physiology better. Of course, the only thing the extended bedrest did is make him antsy to move, and Shiro knows it. He bore the brunt of the complaining, after all.

Besides, sex probably counts as physical therapy, if Shiro would just get on with it.

“You’re not going to hurt me,” Keith grumbles. “I want your cock inside me. Stop teasing.”

Shiro just smiles again, drops a light kiss on his cheek, and maintains the maddeningly slow pace of his fingers. He doesn't even blush anymore when Keith says things like that. Which is great, except for the fact that Keith can no longer use his own bluntness to goad Shiro into doing what he wants.

What Keith wants right now is to get fucked into this too-soft mattress. Apparently, Shiro is intent on denying him.

Keith is not having that. He didn't spend three weeks in a hospital bed with no privacy for Shiro to pull this nonsense when they're finally alone.

He waits until Shiro is absorbed in his chosen task again — eyes half closed, nosing Keith’s cheek, fingers circling wetly and too lightly over his hole — and all right, it really does feel nice, even with need electrifying his blood. Maybe a little bit  _ because _ of that. Keith lets himself get lost in the sensation for a while; Shiro’s fingers are warm and thick and gentle with him, always so gentle, like he’s something to be cherished.

Those fingers still won’t slip inside, though, and Keith has had about enough of the teasing.

He sets his shoulders to the bed and flips them.

“Keith!”

“What?” he asks innocently, smirking down at the flush on Shiro's face and rolling his hips where he’s straddling Shiro’s waist, back then forward so his stiff cock leaves a trail of precome on Shiro’s stomach and his balls rest heavy on the flat muscle.

Shiro's brow furrows despite the distraction. “Be careful; don't hurt yourself.”

“You just want to tease me some more,” Keith accuses fondly. “I'm  _ fine, _ I promise.”

“You're sure?”

In reply, Keith raises his eyebrows and rolls his hips again, shifting back to slide the crease of his ass along Shiro's length so that the overabundance of lube gets it nice and wet. God, it's like Shiro's never even heard of thrift; that must have been half the bottle. Keith's sure as hell not going to let it go to waste. He rolls his hips again, harder this time.

Shiro moans, flushing even darker. His big hands settle on Keith's thighs; one warm flesh, fingers smearing slick on Keith’s skin, and one sculpted alloy, also warm, even bigger. They squeeze, eager in a way that belies his next words.

“What if I just wanted us to go slow?”

“Slow is for the second round,” Keith growls. Shiro makes a helpless noise, his face tightening with desire.

Now that Keith's up here, though, looking down at the barely-stifled need in Shiro’s eyes, he finds that he's changed his mind. Shiro wants slow? Okay. Keith will give him slow. Keith will give him so slow that he _ begs. _

He wants to see Shiro lose control.

He shifts his hips, sliding his ass back and lifting up a little, dragging the tip of Shiro’s cock along the crease and past his hole to catch against his perineum. He presses down right there until Shiro’s low moan kicks up into a whine and his grip spasms on Keith’s legs.

Everything is slick with lube and it’s difficult to keep Shiro where he wants him, but when the pressure makes Shiro slip closer to his hole, Keith twitches away. Teasing.

Then he presses down again with the head caught just on the outside of his rim. Close,  _ so _ close. He smirks at the hitch in Shiro’s breath.

“Ah—  _ Keith, _ c’mon—”

“Thought you said you wanted slow.”

"Thought _ you _ said you  _ didn't." _

"Plans change." When Keith shifts his weight from one knee to the other, Shiro’s cock drags across his hole, dips barely inside— and Keith lifts up again. Shiro hisses. There’s a faint wobble in his metal forearm that makes Keith think Shiro’s fighting very hard to keep it still.

Keith leans forward, braces his weight on his elbows, and smiles against Shiro’s lips, then catches the lower one between his teeth and flicks his tongue over it. He spreads his knees just a little wider as Shiro whispers his name in broken, breathy pieces, then sinks down and finally lets the very tip of Shiro's cock nudge inside him.

Then he stops. Again.

Shiro groans and his hips jump involuntarily, but Keith just goes with him, maintaining the position, refusing to let him get any deeper. He tucks his feet over Shiro's thighs to help hold him still.

Give him a taste of his own medicine, see how  _ he _ likes it. Keith isn't the only one who's been waiting for this.

Mmm, but the stretch is nice. Shiro's only just inside, barely beginning to open him up, but the light touches earlier left Keith nicely relaxed, and he relaxes further with the steady pressure. After a moment, Shiro trails his flesh hand along the crease of Keith’s hip, heading for his cock, but Keith catches him by the wrist and plants that wandering hand back on the outside of his thigh.

“No?” Shiro asks quietly. “Don’t want me to touch you?”

“Mmm, not yet. Just… here.” Keith pats Shiro's hand again, firm and warm, then resettles over him and weaves his fingers through Shiro's silver hair. The color really does suit him.

Shiro murmurs wordlessly and doesn't try to move again except to tilt his head up and find Keith's lips with his own. He kisses firmly at first, but then he relaxes into the contact, softening, gliding his lips over Keith’s slow-slow-quick, easing Keith’s mouth open so he can dip his tongue inside.

If his fingers had just done the same to Keith’s ass earlier, Keith wouldn’t have had to pin him down. Keith likes it up here, though, just as much as he’d have liked being buried under Shiro’s weight. He lets himself get lost in that mouth, that warmth, the smooth slide of tongue and lips, enjoying the little jolt when Shiro nibbles his lower lip and makes his breathing go unsteady. Shiro's fingers knead into the muscle of his legs; a metal thumb traces slow arcs across the top of his thigh.

With a few last, lingering brushes of lips, Keith lets the kiss trail off. He runs the backs of his fingers along Shiro's cheek and Shiro nuzzles into the gesture.

Watching that casual affection is quietly staggering. It’s been months since they came together but sometimes Keith still can’t quite believe that he’s allowed to touch now, that Shiro welcomes it. Keith carried this love for so long, was so convinced that it would never go anywhere outside his own chest, that seeing Shiro press gentle kisses to his palm feels dreamlike, vivid and unreal. But then Shiro opens his eyes and his gaze is so warm, so fond, so… His lips curve under Keith’s fingers and it’s like nothing Keith could have imagined before. It’s so much more, so much better.

This is one of those perfect moments. Something to cling to, something to remind himself of when Shiro has to go captain the Atlas and Keith is in Voltron and the two of them can’t spend all their time invading each other’s personal space. Something to remember when— when—

No, Shiro isn’t going to disappear again. Keith won’t allow it. But hoarding memories against the possibility is a difficult habit to break.

“Hey,” Keith whispers, forcing those thoughts down. Shiro isn’t going anywhere. Shiro is right here, caged in by Keith’s entire body, the tip of his cock pressing a promise on Keith’s hole. He’s surrounded by blankets, and the thick walls of the Garrison’s officers’ quarters, and a particle barrier that stood up to Sendak, and he’s  _ not going anywhere. _ He’s not even allowed out of this bed until Keith’s worn through all his patience. Maybe not then, either.

“Mmm. Hey, yourself.” Shiro kisses the pad of his thumb. “I missed you.”

Keith leans their foreheads together and laughs a little. “How? You were in that hospital room with me every single day.”

“Yes, and so were your mother and Kolivan. Believe me, I missed you plenty.” Shiro brushes their noses together, then gives Keith another slow, worshipful kiss. “I missed being like this with you. Missed holding you, touching your skin.” His fingers tighten on Keith's thighs and his eyes shine with mischief as his voice lowers. “Missed seeing you naked.”

Keith smirks. “Yeah, I missed you, too. You look damn good naked.”

“Oh yeah? You like it?” Keith nods, and the teasing glint grows brighter in Shiro’s eyes. “I see how it is. Only with me for my looks.”

_ “Shiro,” _ Keith scolds because that’s not at all what he meant, but Shiro just grins up at him, unrepentant, and Keith supposes it can’t hurt to play along a little. “Well, you do have, um, pretty incredible deltoids and this  _ dashing _ scar.” Keith traces his fingers over it — sometimes Shiro hates his scars, but the more levity Keith introduces, the less bothered Shiro seems, so Keith's taken it on as his new mission. Besides, the scar across his nose really is handsome, and not only because it’s Shiro’s and everything of Shiro’s is handsome.

This time, Shiro hums happily.

“And my dog likes you,” Keith adds.

“Deltoids, scar, dog? If  _ that's _ all it takes,” Shiro replies, grinning, “then I’m pretty sure Matt fits the bill—”

“Do _ not,” _ Keith yelps. “Shiro, not only is he  _ not you, _ but I'm also pretty sure he's way more into robots than people. No.” Trying to hide his smile, he lifts his hips like he’s going to climb right off and leave the bed entirely.

“Sorry!” Shiro cries immediately, grabbing at Keith’s thighs with both hands but still laughing. “Sorry, I’ll stop; don’t go.”

“Not going to tell me to go find Matt, instead?”

“Of course not,” Shiro replies, his smile softening into something achingly fond.

Keith returns the smile, feeling warm and light down to his core. “Good,” he pronounces. “Because you’re it for me. You know that, right?”

“Keith,” Shiro murmurs, gently brushing Keith's hair back with his metal fingers. “Yes. Of course. You’re it for me, too. You’re— you’re everything.”

Keith loves this man so much. He smooths his hands over Shiro’s chest, revelling in feeling him sure and safe under his own hands where he can feel him breathing, can feel his heart beating in his chest. Shiro’s skin is warm where Keith’s legs are gripped around him and he looks up at Keith with happiness glittering in his eyes, and Keith is astounded all over again.

He's allowed this. Shiro  _ wants _ this.

“Shiro?” he says softly, leaning down and cupping his cheek.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too. Always.”

As Keith gazes with unguarded fondness at the sweep of Shiro's eyelashes, he finds himself sinking gradually down onto Shiro's cock without even meaning to, taking the head further in until the flared edge of the crown is almost inside, begging entrance at his rim.

Shiro makes a shivery noise.

God, he's too distracting. Keith  _ was _ trying to tease him before they got all sidetracked. Time to get back on task.

“Mm, Keith,” Shiro mumbles, “how long are you going to make me wait?”

But Keith is lifting his hips up, smiling wickedly and pulling steadily away until Shiro's cock is resting against the outside of his hole again. Just enough pressure not to let him slip away entirely, but too much distance for Shiro to get back inside. Keith already misses the warm stretch, but the shocked look on Shiro’s face makes up for it.

Slow. As slow as he can possibly stand, and then slower still. All for Shiro.

Shiro makes a wounded noise, dragging his hands to Keith's waist. “You're—” he starts, then abandons the sentence with a whine.  _ “Keith.” _

“You wanted me to take it easy, didn’t you? Is this slow enough?”

“You're being  _ mean.” _ He sounds more surprised than he has any right to. 

“Not mean,” Keith retorts, trying not to smile too obviously. “You’re the one who wanted this. I'm just trying to follow orders.”

Keith drops again suddenly, only half an inch or so just to get Shiro barely inside, and then hangs there as Shiro throws his head back into the pillow. Keith catalogues the sensations: the sweet stretch in his rim, the way it contracts around the intrusion, the slick mess of lube and precome all around his hole. The tension shifting on the inside of his legs as all Shiro’s core muscles clench and shudder under him. How hard Shiro struggles not to buck up and shove deeper.

He’s so  _ good. _ Keith gives him another kiss, quick and light, and then another, and another, skimming his mouth across Shiro’s, holding his own hips steady—

Shiro finally yields to his fate and goes slack, sinking into the mattress with a groan. Keith settles with him, keeping the tip of Shiro's cock nestled just inside himself; each of their tiny movements is magnified a hundredfold through that point of connection, sending little frissions of pleasure up the column of his spine.

“Keith…” Shiro sighs. He sounds overwhelmed.

With a wordless murmur, Keith drops down to kiss Shiro’s mouth, brushing a hand down the line of his neck. Now that Shiro’s gone all pliant, Keith lets his hips descend a little more, accepts Shiro into himself until the flared edge of the glans is nudging right up against his rim again.

Then he starts the shallowest, most torturously slow rhythm he’s ever used in his life. Barely moving, little rolls of his hips to take only the very tip of Shiro’s cock, up… and down…

Beneath him, Shiro rocks up in tiny, gentle waves, matching Keith’s pace, not trying for anything deeper. His voice catches right on the edge of noise with each exhale. Keith’s cock bobs heavily in the narrow space between them; every time it brushes Shiro’s stomach, it makes Keith’s hole clench, and every time he clenches, Shiro sucks in a shaky breath.

Shiro is so focused on Keith’s movements that he’s apparently forgotten about the rest of his own body. His hands are lax, resting on Keith’s thighs, and his eyes are half-lidded and intense, gazing up with this look of hazy pleasure that makes Keith’s blood sing.

Honestly, Keith is teasing himself just as much as he’s teasing Shiro, but even with the empty ache inside him crying out to be filled, this shallowness still feels incredible. The sensation builds up in tingling layers. Every short, dragging stroke over his rim fires staticky pulses of heat along his nerves.

God, it’s so good. Smooth and hot and slow as honey.

Shiro sighs, breathy and reverent. Keith leans in for another kiss, and with the first touch of Shiro’s lips — soft, slack with pleasure, hot breath puffing between them — something in Keith snaps and all his patience abandons him.

He shoves his hips down, sheathing Shiro entirely in one rapid movement. Every nerve ending ignites all at once; Keith whines, overwhelmed, filled so deep so fast that it knocks all the breath right out of him. And fuck, the  _ noise _ Shiro makes, stuttering, broken, gasping against Keith’s cheek as he clutches him to his chest with both arms—

_ “Fuck.” _ Keith’s not sure which of them said it. Could have been either of them, and just as genuine either way. Shiro shudders under him, chest heaving, muscles tense, but Keith’s feet are still hooked over his thighs, still trapping his hips to the bed, and he doesn’t move.

Keith lays there, paralyzed by sensation with Shiro as deep as he can get him and his own cock trapped between them, and feels his body clench in waves.

“Keith,” Shiro whispers, nosing along his cheek until their mouths meet again. Then he’s mumbling more words into the messy contact, Keith’s name and  _ please _ and  _ yes, so good _ and other, less sensible sounds as he tries to breathe and speak and kiss all at once and meets only marginal success at any of the three.

Keith follows along for a while, finding his way back down from the edge that his precipitous action left him on, grounding himself on Shiro’s lips while Shiro’s cock splits him wide. Then, when the pleasure simmers down into something almost manageable instead of an all-consuming inferno, he licks deep into Shiro’s mouth and draws his hips up again. Slow, so goddamn slow it almost breaks him— but it almost breaks Shiro, too, and that makes it worth the effort.

He’s empty and aching; having had Shiro so deep, the shallow place he goes to now is nearly unbearable. But there was an idea here, a plan that Keith would like to follow through on, so he backs himself off Shiro’s cock and clings to the thought of how satisfying it will be to have Shiro begging under him as a desperate talisman against the desire to sink down again and  _ ride. _

Shiro makes a thin noise of impatience, but he’s good, he’s  _ so _ good for Keith, and he doesn’t try to fight the motion, though his fingers are sharp as claws on Keith’s sides.

Keith kisses him again, nips at his lips and chin and jaw in reward, and then props himself up on shaking arms and restarts that slow, shallow rhythm. Just the head dipping in, pulling almost completely out, dipping in again. Teasing, brutally teasing, for both of them. Keith wants him  _ deep. _ But there’s a shudder in Shiro’s hands, a catch in his breath, an arch in his neck, and taken together, those little things paint a larger picture of an incipient loss of control that Keith wants,  _ needs _ to witness.

He keeps on.

He  _ has _ missed Shiro. They’ve been running since the moment they landed back on Earth: all that fraught time plotting against Sendak’s forces, a battle that nearly cost them everything, that moment of sacrifice when Keith wasn’t sure he’d ever see Shiro’s face again — and then three weeks spent in a hospital bed, healing from his crash landing. It’s been even longer for Shiro, what with how long it was before Keith woke up the first time. Now Keith needs to feel Shiro shiver with something other than fear, needs to hear him beg for something other than Keith’s recovery, needs to see a desperation in his eyes that has nothing to do with war and everything to do with Keith’s body driving him out of his mind.

So he keeps their movements shallow, keeps Shiro on the edge of satisfaction, and waits him out.

Up. Down.

Up.

“Ah— please,” Shiro says, all breath with no voice. It’s drawn-out and shivery and music to Keith’s ears.

“Just… mmm. Just a little longer.” Keith braces himself on one hand next to Shiro’s shoulder, then pets down his chest. All that skin feels so good, so solid and real under him. “I like having you right here. Don’t you like going slow?”

Shiro makes a thin noise, his chin jerking like he doesn't know whether to nod or deny it. With another shift, Keith finally lets the head of Shiro's cock fully inside, and then he stalls there, held open.  _ Ohh, yes. _

“God,  _ Keith,” _ Shiro moans, and grinds out a guttural sound that Keith can't help but echo.

In increments, Keith works the head out, then in again. The catch and release as the crown pushes into him feels like static electricity, like the friction is generating a charge that travels from his hole out along all his veins, arcing between his skin and Shiro's everywhere they touch, forcing his eyes shut.

_ “Keith,” _ Shiro whines again, high and broken. His fingers clutch. “Keith,  _ please. _ Let me— I need to— let me inside you, please, I can’t— I  _ can’t—” _

“Yes, you can,” Keith whispers just as breathlessly, unsure of what exactly he’s reassuring Shiro about but certain all the same. “You  _ are. _ Just like this, Shiro.”

He can hardly hold a thought in his head. Shiro is turning wild under him now, writhing, frenzied, and yet still so careful not to do more than Keith allows. Keith’s losing the battle with his own willpower, hanging onto control by his fingernails.  _ Almost there, _ he thinks desperately.  _ Almost. _

Down, clenching tight around Shiro’s cock just under the crown.

Up, drawing off agonizingly slow. A new tingle of static jittering out from where he's all slippery with lube, oversensitized. Keith bites back a whine. God, he’s so  _ empty; _ this isn’t enough.

“Need to feel you, please,  _ please, _ Keith,” Shiro whimpers, sounding cracked open, totally unselfconscious in his desire. His fingers squeeze and release on Keith’s hips. “Please,  _ fuck, _ let me— I want you, want to make you feel good, please let me fuck you, Keith, god—”

_ “Shiro.” _

“K—eith—”

It’s a struggle to peel his eyes open under the weight of sensation drowning him, but Keith manages to find Shiro’s gaze. His brow is crinkled with frustrated want, mouth open, moaning Keith's name again and again. The curve of his neck is beautiful against the pillows. He looks as if he’s right on the verge of something enormous, the sort of painful ecstasy they used to paint on cathedral walls centuries ago, a pleasure so bright it burns. This,  _ this _ is what Keith was waiting for: Shiro undone, Shiro stripped to bare need, Shiro looking up at him like  _ that. _

Keith watches him pant for breath, his own lungs constricting. Shiro is— fuck, he’s incredible. Keith can hardly believe he’s allowed this. That he can put that expression on Shiro’s face. That he can touch those pecs, those shoulders, that he can kiss those lips, that he can have Shiro here with him in this moment.

His heart climbs into his throat as Shiro gazes up at him. He can't stand to deny either of them any longer.

“Keith, please—”

He slams his hips down.

_ “Ah—!” _

_ “Fffffuck—” _

All the way to the hilt,  _ fuck, _ with a slap of lube-damp skin as his ass meets Shiro’s thighs and stays there. He falls forward to bury his face against Shiro’s collar bone, curving over him, sucking in air as he spasms around Shiro's cock, as Shiro scrabbles at his ribs.

If it was a static shock before, now the sensation is a power surge jolting along Keith’s nerves, electricity built up by the teasing denial until it’s enough to stop his heart in his chest. Shiro's cock is thick inside him, a lightning rod grounding the high-voltage pleasure and directing it to Keith's deepest places.

“Oh,” Shiro pants, “Keith—” His knees come up to brace himself, his thighs cradling Keith’s ass, and the change in angle brings the electric pressure of his cock even deeper. With a shuddering moan, Keith flattens their bodies together, feeling Shiro's heat all down his front.

Keith is out of patience, out of teasing. It's all been seared away. The only thing that remains is the need sparking down his spine, the greedy feeling of taking Shiro and  _ keeping him. _

“Shiro.  _ Fuck me.” _

With a whine, Shiro traps Keith's hips in his big hands and drives, somehow, even further in. So, _so_ fucking deep. There's no room for thought, for air, for _anything,_ he's so full with Shiro, penned in by his arms, stretched tight around his cock.

Then Shiro pulls out just enough to shove back in, and Keith swears through gritted teeth and digs his feet under Shiro’s ass so he can haul their bodies closer that way, too. They’re already pressed skin to sweat-sticky skin with Shiro buried to the root inside him, but surely there’s a way to get closer, some tiny pocket of air between them that they can evict in favor of more contact. Keith groans, then sucks in a desperate breath as Shiro starts to move.

“Oh god, oh fuck,  _ Shiro— more—” _

Shiro is wound up almost beyond reason and it shows in the wild rhythm he starts, short, driving thrusts that jolt through Keith’s entire body, pushing into that empty, hungry place deep inside him. Every inch is a sweet burn, lighting Keith up with crackling electricity, and he shoves his ass down for more as Shiro’s hands dig into his hips, yanking him down into each merciless stroke into his hole. Each thrust sends Keith’s nerves into overdrive, makes him clench and gasp until it’s a continuous sound: his breath catching with helpless noises of desire, the thick sound of Shiro pounding into him, Shiro moaning as his thighs work and his cock shoves into Keith's ass again and again. The voltage spirals higher in Keith’s core as his legs clench around Shiro’s hips and his cock rubs wetly across Shiro’s stomach.

“Keith, ah, I— you feel so good—”

Keith can only chant Shiro's name in response, hands tight and sharp on Shiro's shoulders. He needs all of Shiro, everything, every frenzied thrust, every inch of skin, every broken, gasping noise Shiro makes. Hoarding memories. He shoves his face harder into Shiro’s neck and clings tight, strung out and needy and just as desperate as Shiro.

Shiro fucks him hard and close and frenetic, barely pulling back but grinding deep, sending sparks of pleasure all through Keith’s body; Keith shoves down onto him just as furiously, his hole gripping tight around Shiro's cock, chasing a peak still barely out of reach. The building orgasm threatens to seize his whole body. It’s so fucking good, the delicious stretch and push of Shiro’s cock moving inside him, the hot-sore-incredible points where Shiro’s fingers dig into his hips, the tight pressure on his cock where it’s trapped between them, the burn in his thighs as he pulls Shiro in, the hot skin of Shiro's neck damp under his lips, the pleased moan Shiro gives him when he kisses him there.

“Yes, yes,  _ Shiro,” _ he groans, overwhelmed, when Shiro's cock drags over a particularly good spot. Shiro redoubles his efforts with a guttural noise and Keith cries out, hole squeezing tight around Shiro's girth pistoning inside him, deep and hard and so, so satisfying after all the teasing.

Time slows as the pleasure crests; Keith grits out a low whine between clenched teeth, and then he’s coming, seared from the inside out by the overwhelming, electric sensation. His cock spurts on Shiro’s abs, spilling white and wet and sticky as Shiro thrusts hard into his clenching hole, again, again, drawing out the feeling.

It wrings Keith dry and leaves him wilted and gasping in the aftermath. He holds Shiro as close as he can get him as Shiro thrusts wildly a few moments more, and then Shiro’s coming, too; Keith can feel the throb of it in his hole, an echo of his own pleasure, and it sends an aftershock shivering through his spent nervous system. Shiro is quiet when he comes, but his breathing is ragged and stuttering as his thrusts go shorter, sharper, slower, and he grips Keith fiercely to himself as he rides it out.

“Mmm, god,” Keith groans when Shiro’s arms let up the pressure a little. Shiro buries his responding noise in Keith’s hair.

“You okay?” Shiro asks after a few moments. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

_ “No, _ Shiro,” Keith chuckles, “you weren’t too rough. Could have been a lot rougher; I’d have still been fine. I would’ve liked it, even.”

With a smile in his voice, Shiro replies, “Maybe later. You’re still healing, you know.”

“As if you’d let me forget.”

Keith rubs his cheek on Shiro’s jaw as they relax slowly and breathe together for a while, floating on the shared languor of orgasm. Shiro pets down Keith's back with one hand, his softening cock slipping from Keith’s hole as they readjust their position.

“Hey, Keith,” Shiro murmurs eventually.

“Yeah?” Keith murmurs back, lazy, enjoying the closeness of laying all over Shiro’s chest. This is  _ his. _ Right now it feels solid and permanent. He gets to keep this, he gets to have Shiro like this all the time, close and warm and naked and  _ real, _ so real, after everything. Keith has these memories and he can make new ones, too — a never-ending stream of them, here on Earth and soon back out in space where the two of them belong.

Everything about the end of that fight scared him — the mysterious mech; the way it took down the Atlas, so much bigger than it; the massive amount of energy it was about to unleash on Earth; the certainly one-way trip to save the planet. He knows it terrified Shiro.

But Keith is here now, and Shiro's here, safe, and that's not changing ever again. Keith won’t let it.

Shiro squeezes him gently. “Welcome home.”


End file.
